Wrapped Around My Finger
by 26hannah26
Summary: BB "The old Temperance would never admit that she needed her husband next to her to fall asleep. Then again, the old Temperance wouldn’t have needed a husband, period." Future oneshot drabble. COMPLETE!


A/N Howdy gang! This is an (slightly) rushed F-OFF, or a 'future-oneshot-fanfic'. And yes, I did just make that term up, but what can you do? So, I sort of lost my way with FanFiction yet again, after I promised I would keep writing with my new-found mojo, but once I finished 'The Favour' it left me again. So this is just drabble-ish, plotless fluff. But let's be honest, isn't that the best kind? So here we go…

* * *

She had been lying on her side of the bed for hours, gazing absently out of the window and into the darkness outside. She couldn't see anything out there, but she wasn't really looking. Sighing heavily, she rolled onto her back and craned her neck to see the illuminated digits of the alarm clock facing her from the bedside cabinet on the other side of the bed. He should have been home two hours ago. Even though he always told her not to wait up for him, she did it anyway. Not because she was stubborn, but because, truth be told, she had been sleeping beside him for so long now that she couldn't do it without him there. But that's the way it had been for as long as she could remember. And every time she admitted that to herself, she groaned and shook her head – the _old_ Temperance would _never _admit that she needed her husband next to her to fall asleep.

Then again, the old Temperance wouldn't have needed a husband, period.

Of course, she still knew that marriage was an archaic tradition with no real place in today's society. But that all changed once she was actually married. As soon as the rings were exchanged, actually. She had always been notoriously headstrong, but she definitely surprised herself at how quickly and somewhat painlessly her mind had been turned. Gone were the thoughts of male ownership, possessiveness or dominance, and in its place was the primal feeling that that thick white gold band on his finger meant that he was _hers_. Of course, it meant that she was _his_ too, but that was fine by her – before she had anyone to call her own, that notion was deplorable to her – but she couldn't think of anyone else she would rather call her very own.

For the first few weeks, it took her a while to get used to wearing her own ring all the time. She never wore rings normally – her engagement ring had stayed on a chain around her neck so that the diamond setting didn't rip a hole in her latex gloves every ten minutes – so she always found herself fiddling with it or having it distract her attention as it caught her eye. Now, she couldn't imagine ever taking the band off. It had become a part of her from the very moment he had slipped it onto her finger in that tiny church (which was at his insistence). For what seemed like forever, and just a few minutes at the same time, it had been a distraction and a comfort. She found herself twisting it around her finger or sliding it up and over her knuckle when she was thinking about something – like right now, still lying alone in their bed. When she looked down at her hand and her focus immediately sought out that white gold band of her own, she didn't think of how it was a symbol of her becoming someone's property, or of her part in such an antiquated ritual. She thought of how happy it made her – more happy than a piece of metal should make a person, in her opinion. Just seeing him unconsciously fiddling with his own ring – while watching television, when they were stuck in traffic, during interrogations – filled her with a sense of unprecedented pride. She gave that to him; the symbol of everything that was, is, and will ever be between them.

She thought of how this simple piece of metal embodied everything that Booth was to her – ever-present, constantly reassuring and prone to becoming at the forefront of her mind at any given moment. She had never had someone consume her in so many areas of her life; her work, her home life and her imagination. And she wouldn't change that for anything.

The band itself was fairly ordinary, but the inscription on the inside was what made it entirely unique. Behind that plain, even perhaps generic exterior, was something else, something that betrayed their true feelings towards each other. She often mused on how their choice of rings was strangely similar to how they were as people in their day-to-day lives – formal, unremarkable and conservative on the outside, but romantic and showing how they really felt on the inside, the part that only they knew about and was theirs alone. And, much like in real life, what was inscribed on the inside of their rings was known only to them.

It was much more than just a simple piece of jewellery – how could it be when it symbolised everything that she was, and all that they were. Partners in every sense of the word. It was a part of him that she could take anywhere with her, whether it was to the lab or to the other side of the world, and it reassured her that he was always with her. She would be the first to admit that she sometimes took such sentiments too literally, and scoffed at such notions, but that was just one of the things that changed along with her marital status – Booth's romantic nature was definitely rubbing off on her.

Of course, she would never tell him that.

A/N2 OK, who wants to play 'let's count how many reviews Hannah gets telling her that this is silly'? Believe me people, I know, but I miss all this writing malarkey (and what a cracking word_ that_ was!). You were warned that it was plotless drabble! Reviews are kept in a special place in my heart usually reserved for men with guitars.


End file.
